


king and pawn

by vienitua



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Oma Kokichi-centric, i dont really know what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 11:58:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16764703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vienitua/pseuds/vienitua
Summary: Whether you’re a pawn or a king doesn’t matter, in the end you’re still a piece of the game, every breath, every step being steered by invisible hands. You can’t change it.





	king and pawn

**Author's Note:**

> little thingy i wrote????? idk please take it thx

A player is a player.  
No matter how much control you may have in the game, you’re still a puppet. A doll. _A character_.  
Everything you do is scripted, and no matter how many times you try to stray from your lines, there’s always a new passage ahead.

Whether you’re a pawn or a king doesn’t matter, in the end you’re still a piece of the game, every breath, every step being steered by invisible hands.  
You can’t change it. Even if you push every last person away and your room is a sea of plans and diagrams and _he_ follows every last word you write until the trial runs into the ground and his lungs give in like they were programmed to do from the very start; nothing will change.

The season will end and the board will crumble, encasing everyone you couldn’t save and were never meant to be saved in the first place.  
They’ll move on. Another season will start and the same thing will happen again and another pawn will come along and try to be the hero you never were and in the end the only thing they’ll have won is a place in the kingdom 6 feet under the earth.

It should be comforting, knowing the rest of your life sits as a piece of paper on someone’s desk, stained with coffee and crumpled from hasty editing when you, yet again, attempt to wear armour far too heavy for someone so small.

After all, isn’t the unknown what you’ve been afraid of the entire time?

Not knowing where you are, who you are, who the people around you are and when you may just open a door and find them dead on the floor.

Or was is being known? The paranoia of being predictable, having everyone around you know exactly what will come out of your mouth the next time you open it, or knowing every action you’ve yet to perform.

But that doesn’t matter, does it? You’re scared. What of isn’t of any importance, because no matter what may strike fear into your heart, whether it be the mouth of a gun or the piercing red eyes of the one behind the trigger, you’re going to do it anyway. At least you weren’t boring, right?


End file.
